A letter from Ann Estaki
Every family has a story it prefers not to tell. Mine had several, and for most of my life I carried them quietly, the way you carry a bag you have forgotten you are holding.
PB is where I set them down.
Why I write
I write the memories that will not leave me alone. I have learned that when I put a painful thing on the page, it loosens its grip on my mind. Writing is not how I relive the past. It is how I finally put it somewhere other than inside me.
Writing is not how I relive the past. It is how I finally put it somewhere other than inside me.
These essays are about family and inheritance: the fathers and mothers we are given, the sisters we grow up beside, the patterns passed from one generation to the next, and the slow work of claiming a voice of one’s own. Some of them are hard to read. Some of them, I hope, will make you laugh. All of them are true as I lived them.
In these pages
- The Champagne I Didn’t Order — a sober wedding, a father with other plans, and the bill that came after.
- The Man Behind the Smile — growing up with a father who had all fifteen signs.
- Learning to Love the Person Narcissistic Parents Tried to Break — why low self-esteem is a survival strategy, and how to unlearn it.
A note to the reader
If you recognize your own family in any of these pages, you are not alone, and you are not imagining it. Read slowly. Take what helps. Leave the rest.
Welcome to PB. I’m glad you’re here.
— Ann Estaki
PB is published by Estaki Editions, an independent imprint for long-form personal writing.
